The Ramblings of the World
by Uninteresting.Person.No.2
Summary: So, basically, these are the mental ramblings of some of the characters of Hetalia. Some rambles will be AU, some not, just depends on the mood I'm in when I write them, so sorry about that. I fail at all things summary, though a better explaination is inside, so I'd click if I were you.


Hallo all. Just an uninteresting person here ^^

So, as stated in the summary, this is basically the mental ramblings of some of my favorite charactres in hetalia. Some will be happy and humorous, some will be on the sadder side, and some might be downright insane, you never know. If people get to liking this, and they want other chracters thrown in I'll try, but no promises.

Anyway, I won't keep you longer than needed.

Enjoy~

* * *

~Canada/Matthew~

My whole life I've been told I could do anything. That if I worked hard enough I could become what society deemed successful. Nice job, nice car, nice house, nice wife, nice kids, nice life. A cookie cutter existence, that would make my parents, and society proud, and me happy.

Alright, I admit I started this off in what probably sounds like a very sarcastic tone, and that wasn't my intention….well ok, maybe a little. But to keep from tangent jumping, let's get back to the point: I never wanted to live that kind of life, because to me, that's just existing. There's no sustenance to that kind of life, and I never liked the way it sounded. It's not that I want to defy the norm, it's just simply that it didn't sound appealing, I suppose you could say. So for the mass majority of my life (all seventeen years of it) I've striven for even greater things, meaning that I've devoted myself to schoolwork, because I knew that to get anywhere, one needed an education. And up until recently, that was enough to keep me content.

So what's the problem? Well the problem is that several months ago, I developed a new hobby. Well what's this hobby? No wait! Let me guess! It's alcohol isn't it? No? Then sex. It has to be sex! Another no? Alright, then, selling ice cream to elderly people in the park? Well it's none of the above, though we will hear mention of a them in the near future.

No, my new hobby was thinking. Wait! Hold the phone! Thinking? That's my hobby? Didn't I already do that? Well friends, quick tangent jump- there happens to be a difference between just reading a textbook and giving the right answer, and actually thinking for yourself.- And that's what I had started doing. I would find myself lost in thought, and the farther I delved into myself, the more I realized how boring my life actually was. I mean sure, I have friends and a brother I could hang out with. Sure, I play hockey, which is considered a pastime. Sure, I did a lot of things, but honestly, my heart wasn't in them. It was almost like I was just going through motions, like I knew what people expected of me, and so that's what I gave them. And that was one of the things I thought about. How does one feel alive again? Or have I ever felt alive at all? What would benefit me most in the long run? What did I want? Why does fibonacci's number appear so often in nature? Oh, well that's because it happens to be the perfect way for leaves to grow on a stem so they each obtain an optimum amount of sunlight….oops. Tangent-jump. Sorry.

Anyway, the point is, as I continued to think, the more I realized what I wanted.

To state it bluntly, I want to be miserable.

Now, I know what you're going to say, _"Pfft, You can't possibly mean that. No one __**wants**__ to be miserable!"_

But the thing is I do. I truly do.

Now before you start going all psycho-doctor-ninja on me, and pointing fingers at people "responsible for my view on life," let me make one thing very clear: My life at the moment couldn't be, in a technical sense, better. My parents are still married (a commodity in today's culture), as stated,I have a pretty cool older brother and friends, I've been blessed with natural abilities, and as cliché as it sounds, I could go anywhere, and be anything I wanted to, again, like I said.

But for some sick reason, I have to overwhelming urge to bring the whole thing crashing down.

I don't want to do it to hurt my parents, I don't want to do it as a way to rebel; I just want to do it because there is just something so _appealing_ to it.

There is just something so appealing in the thought of living in cramped and dirty apartments, constantly having to move because I never pay rent, in less than desirable neighborhoods sane-minded people would never venture into. There's something so appealing in the thought of getting completely trashed every day, and the source of my intoxication varying from having ingested too much alcohol, or too many drugs. There is something so appealing in the thought of sleeping with countless strangers, possibly even be a prostitute, occasionally keeping one around for a couple of months, but always ending up back on my own. There is something so appealing to the thought of ruining my life; of going out and living the kind of life I've just described. There is something so appealing in the thought of being miserable.

It's crazy right? Just crazy. But I want it. I crave it.

I want to be hurt. I want there to be a constant ache in my chest. I want to wake up every morning knowing I messed up.

I was raised by religious parents, and while growing up with them I often heard this "Remember, the road to Hell is wide and gently sloping, the road to Heaven is narrow and steep.." Whenever I heard this, the mental image I got was of a huge canyon, and even though there are sudden drop off like any canyon, there is a clear path, that just so happens to be wide enough for several people to walk down at once, and it just so happens to slope in a gentle manner, and the road to heaven was basically a mountain. I said all that to tell you this: at the moment, I don't want to just stroll leisurely down to my ultimate destruction, I want to stand on the ledge, and then tilt back, and let gravity do the rest. I want to fall so fast, and hit rock bottom so hard, that'll I'll be permanently crippled.

Sad right? A little spritz of pathetic mixed in? Well you know what's worse? No? Well too bad, I'm going to tell you anyway. What's worse is, I'll never do it. I'll never meet up with the Russian guy outside of school, and get so smashed I don't remember what the hell happened, and have the world's longest hangover. I'll never meet up with the Dutch guy, and trip the hell out. And I'll probably never sleep with more than one person. No sir, the most likely outcome of this situation is that I'll finish out my high school career, go on to college, meet my "other half", get married, get a nice job, buy a nice car, and a nice house, have a couple of nice children, and have a nice life.

Isn't that sad?


End file.
